Drunk Desires
by DealingDearie
Summary: While at the celebratory feast for her new title as one of Asgard's warriors, Sif drinks far too much and comes across an equally intoxicated pair of brothers.


There came a moment in every warrior's life that would impress itself upon their memories for centuries to come, something so deeply influential and crucial that they couldn't possibly be the same without it, and Sif, after trying her best and training herself to prime condition, after long hours spent practicing and long years spent dreaming, had finally become a warrior, and had finally, _at last_, found her moment.

With the Warriors Three standing proudly around her, Sif could believe that the world was completely at peace, that there wasn't a single conflict, that there couldn't possibly_ be_ a single conflict-not with so much jubilation floating in the air of the feast hall.

Somewhere amidst the mass of laughing, chatting people sounded the pop of a wine bottle, and rambunctious cheers followed as the Warriors picked Sif up, holding her aloft as they marched her through the crowd and over to the feast table, which was flooded with giant roasted birds and succulent deserts, brimming with fruit and vegetables so juicy and fresh that Sif's mouth watered at the sight.

A silver platter, lifted up to grace her bird's-eye view, brought a smile to her face as she caught a glimpse of the wine glass placed on it, crimson liquid glittering in the golden light cast down by the hanging, sparkling chandeliers far above. She reached for the glass, smiling down at Fandral as he bounced her on his shoulders, and Volstagg did the same, smiling proudly up at her.

As she brought the glass to her lips, eyes scanning over the rim of it, she spotted Thor, laughing as he made his way effortlessly through the crowd, a golden prince in a mass of insignificant shadows, and her grey eyes lit up with joy, her pulse racing as the wine slid easily down her throat.

"My friend!"

His voice was always the loudest, and she didn't notice the figure behind him, so caught up was she in the sight of the crown prince holding his arms out to her, a wide grin spreading on his face. She leaned down as far as she was able to take his hands, slender fingers wrapping warmly within his burly palms, her pale cheeks reddening with the rush in her blood.

"Congratulations," came a low, smooth voice behind Thor, and Sif's eyes darted to see Loki standing, ever the dark prince, in Thor's shadow, and her lips parted at the vision of him, green eyes piercingly bright, pale skin illuminated by the candles looking down on him.

"You're finally a warrior," Loki continued, smirking, and Sif laughed over at him as a silver platter appeared before her, and she took it gratefully, guzzling the drink down within seconds, licking her lips to savor it, and when she looked down again, Thor was laughing at her display, shaking his head but unable to keep the smirk from his lips, and Sif saw another glass and grabbed it on instinct, waggling her eyebrows as she threw her head back to drink from it.

Many glasses later, and many hours into the party, Sif found herself once again on the ground, and if her senses weren't so muddled, she'd think it a foreboding, ominous thought-the idea that she'd just been so high on her own pedestal, and now she was, as she would always be, upon the same level, feet sliding across the stone floor as she sidled over to where Thor was drinking with Loki, and she noticed the shine of intoxication in both their eyes.

Her heart raced in her chest, sending hot blood rushing through her veins, and she smiled drunkenly, stumbling in her heeled boots as she stopped before the golden prince, his blue eyes bright and his cheeks red, his grin wide and suggestive, and she rolled her eyes, but the action was lost somewhere in the midst of completing it, and she blinked at him, confused, before laughing at his expression.

She could hear the loud, echoing laughter all around her, could feel the warmth electric in the air, and she smiled giddily as the sounds mingled together to form an indistinguishable cacophony of noise that spent no time in her thoughts, and she ignored the increasingly bright light above her to glance at Loki, who stood quietly beside Thor, smiling at the remnants of some joke no doubt still lingering in his memory, dark hair tousled and falling in thick, curling strands before his eyes.

She narrowed her gaze, sending him a coy smirk as she leaned over to loop an arm around his neck, taking a large sip of wine with her other hand, and smiling as he placed a warm palm on the soft, milky skin of her arm, revealed by the sleeveless golden dress she wore.

Thor laughed beside them, wrapping an arm around Loki's shoulders to shake him gently, and he mussed Loki's hair jokingly. Loki's arm snaked over to press urgently to Sif's slender waist, and she smirked as he pulled her to his chest, the smell of leather and magic overwhelming her as she sank, more of her body's desire than of her own accord, against him, basking in his warmth, her face red and flushed with blood as the room started to swim, and she faltered, leaning more heavily against him for lack of balance.

He laughed, that sultry, dark chuckle that sent shivers through her, and pressed close to her, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her ear.

"You look radiant in gold," he murmured, and she noticed how the ends of his words slurred the slightest, and smiled as he moved his lips to her temple, feeling his grin spread against her hairline, her heart racing as butterflies soared in her stomach.

**Based on a prompt given by damnadler.**

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